Beating the birthday blues

It was my birthday in mid-December, but I was far from excited about the event. I haven't been excited about my birthday for the past few years, but it's not because I'm feeling the weight of the years piling up (even though they are), or because I dislike birthdays in general (I don't). The real reason is that the past few birthdays have been unmitigated disasters of timing and negative emotions, transforming celebrations into sullen uncomfortable silences that are best escaped by hiding under the covers.

Not quite the picture of a dominant man, eh? Well I never said I was perfect (within range of recording devices) and so I'd been dreading the latest chapter in miserable milestones and was looking for any excuse that might have sent me out of town on business, pleasure or a one way trip to wherever (yes, it was that bad). Sam and I had not been getting on well for the past couple of weeks and my frustrations at not being able to communicate my feelings to her were growing, but I had developed a stupid, stubborn decision that December was going to be a sex-free month, so what was there to look forward to, anyway? What was that? Back it up a bit you say? A sex-free month?

This was in response to several different influences: last Christmas was a bad one in the Frank household due to Sam's decision to use very personal admissions regarding the importance of sex and intimacy and their corresponding value in a happy and harmonious marriage against me, by withholding sex. Why she did it I can't tell you. At the time I suspected she was simply bratting, but she claims that wasn't it. I'm not sure I ever got a meaningful answer out of her even when we resolved the issue, and that failing is likely the reason it still sticks in my craw and came back around this year; that and the fact that she told me she was under a lot of stress from her work and the expectations that were on her to provide for Christmas (baking, shopping, decorating etc.) and that between her period cramps, ovary pains and numerous other complaints, she didn't want me pressuring her for sex. Yeah, I know that many of the men here would have taken that as a clear sign that someone needed some OTK attention post haste, but I know my Sam and she wasn't looking for a discipline spanking, she was looking for space and putting it to me in the most straightforward terms that were guaranteed to let me know what she did and didn't want. So I decided that I would give her what she was asking for and then some. I was just as attentive as ever, and would hug her, hold her and comfort her – to a point. She endured two weeks of chaste behaviour before it started sinking in that something was missing from the mix. She wasn't getting the opportunity to say no.

Now none of you really know me, but this was a case of this hurting me more than it was hurting her; my sex drive is still stuck at the same level it was when I was 17 years old and though my mental maturity has increased (slightly),

it was only by focusing on the resentment of last Christmas that I was able to continue to block out thoughts of sex. It was surprising to me that I managed to channel that kind of negative energy, since I don't carry many grudges. I suppose that it had affected me on such a deep level that it still hadn't been resolved and fueled my resolve to hold out for as long as I needed to.

From previous posts, you'll recall that Sam is not into discipline the way many women reading Taken In Hand are. She doesn't want to be punished for picayune reasons, generated simply as a ruse for spanking. She appreciates erotic spanking as part of our lovemaking, but has shown a real resistance to most punishment sessions. I feel I missed a bet when I didn't put her over my knee last Christmas, but I judged the situation differently then and still don't think forcing the issue with a spanking would have been the correct approach. Given a chance to do it over again though, I would hope that I could see the same thing I saw in her eyes on Friday night when she was wishing me a happy birthday and I still had my grump face on.

I had promised her a spanking a couple of weeks earlier in honour of her arrival in this country as an immigrant some 24 years ago. For one reason or another, I didn't administer the spanking and shortly after, got into my December snit and had been sucked into the maelstrom of chaos of my work where my full focus was required. Well, Sam remembered that promised spanking and when she brought it up casually on my birthday, I saw a light in her eyes that signaled real anticipation and I felt something register within me that gave me pause. I still managed to brush away a tentative advance on her part by volunteering to tackle a chore in the basement that needed doing. That gave me the time and solitude to do a quick self-check on the situation and where my head was (and pull it out of my ass, apparently).

Suddenly, the reasons for holding out were revealed to be silly, petty things that wilted under this new light of opportunity. While I was in the basement, I took advantage of the opportunity to get a few things ready for some fun later. Then I went upstairs, a man with new resolve.

I'm only human, so I thought it best to blow off some steam first with Sam in a fun and non-threatening manner, which meant pulling her into bed for some quick fun; we managed to finish just before my sister dropped by to wish me a happy birthday. With that visit out of the way and no one else scheduled to stop by, we retired to the basement and the real fun began.

Sam was flushed with pleasure from the first course, and a little nervous, since she knew what she'd gotten herself in for; 24 is not an insignificant number of swats to administer and I decided to have even more fun with her by getting her to keep count. I had to keep from laughing out loud as she lost count several times, getting too wound up in the yelp of pain that accompanied every sharp slap. I guess I still had a tinge of a grudge powering my right hand, but by the time Sam had counted out 23 (actually closer to 30 ;-),

I decided she'd been punished enough and planted a soft kiss on her cheery cherry red cheeks in place of the final swat. That wasn't good enough for her though; she kept yelling for me to finish it and so I did give her one final swat that managed to catch both cheeks and left no doubt that she was done with her spanking. By that time, I was in that amazing zone of mastery and power that comes from exercising physical privilege over my woman.

Trying to explain how it feels to spank someone you love is a difficult thing, given that it is so diametrically opposed to most people's perception of loving and caring. From the intensity of the sex sessions that followed and continued through the night, it's safe to say that Sam was well aware of the effect it has on me and welcomed the idea of me letting loose of my inner sex monster to ravage her as I saw fit. Luckily, I managed to push her to the edge and back without damaging her or creating any new issues or traumas.

Okay a confession of sorts may be in order: the reason the past few birthdays were shit was the lack of sex that occurred. It always seemed like timing and other issues took precedence and I usually wound up in a bad mood feeling slighted and resentful until the next day when some chance comment or action (such as both of us taking the afternoon off to come home early-independent of each other) would bring us together and the games would begin again. This birthday, the sex started when it would do the most good, but it only started because I decided it would, and my decision was based on the light that shone from my love's eyes when she reminded me of my promise to spank her beautiful bottom. She wanted to be taken in hand and then taken, and I was more than willing to oblige my darling.

That's how I beat my birthday blues.

Howard Frank